i wanna borrow it

silly ladynoir things
  • chat starts Shit Talking Sundays bc there are some days when chat just needs to talk about how dumb his dad is being and ladybug needs to scream about this bratty bully in her history class
  • on days when they’re bored, they’ll board the metro in costume and ride it for a few stops purely for the shock value
  • chat finds out ladybug can’t whistle and spends every available opportunity trying to teach her
    • cn: *squishes her cheeks between his hands* you’re not pursing your lips enough and your tongue isn’t positioned correctly, try again
    • lb: my tongue is sitting in my mouth what do you mean it’s not positioned correctly i don’t ???????
  • joint naps during patrols are very much a thing bc these kids never sleep between school and akuma attacks. sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll find ladybug snoring on a rooftop with chat noir laid on top of her, drooling on her shoulder
  • when patrols get boring, ladybug will hop on chat noir’s back, make him shut his eyes, and act as his eyes while they try to patrol the city before switching places. they don’t talk about that time chat was laughing too hard to warn ladybug about the ledge and they almost fell off a roof. 
  • hide and seek games that last literally hours
    • they both cheat and bring their phones to stalk social media tags and see if anyone’s posted tips and/or sightings of them so that they can find the other
  • chat’s really good at massages so sometimes he’ll work out the kinks in ladybug’s shoulders when they have downtime bc “wow you carry so much tension in your neck please tell me you’re not hunched over your desk all day”
  • the eiffel tower is their honorary “it’s 3am and we can’t sleep” meeting place. 
  • they’ll often drop into parks and playgrounds and join with some of the neighborhood kids on games of tag, frisbee, and football
  • they have a going scoreboard for their impromptu arm wrestling competitions. last they checked the score was 32-35 with ladybug in the lead. 
  • they each have their own personal lists of dumb/funny things that the other has said
    • chat’s list of things ladybug has said: “sleep isn’t a thing you know. they lied to you. it’s not real,” “you ever wonder if i can spin a web with my yoyo?” “can lucky charm conjure me an A for this physics test tomorrow?” “i almost had my cat-eye eye liner perfect today before that akuma appeared and messed me up like that proximity to perfection might never happen again.”
    • ladybug’s list of things chat has said: “is there a place where we can borrow a microwave? i wanna see what happens if i use cataclysm on it,” “memes are like the dysfunctional family you didn’t ask for but didn’t know you needed,” “im like terrified an akuma attack is gonna happen when i’m in the shower while im naked and vulnerable,” “if i extend my staff long enough, do you think it’ll reach space?”

I want a girlfriend and I want to hold her hand and walk with her and kiss her under a streetlight as the snow flies around us and I want to lend her my jacket when she’s cold or borrow hers it doesn’t matter I just wanna share clothes with her and I want us to build snowmen and make snow angels and celebrate Christmas together and get each other gifts even though we didn’t agree to do that and drink hot chocolate and share cute kisses under mistletoes and wear oversized sweaters and fuzzy socks and have lots of blankets and cuddle and be really soft and I just really want a girlfriend to keep me warm during winter is that too much to ask

Phoebus: if you wanna kiss him that bad, you gotta set the mood. You wanna borrow my car?
Dallas: I’m 17. I mean I’m gonna be 18 in a few months but. He’s just turned 19.
Phoebus: oh, pshaw. You can drive him to cedarpoint and eat face there. I’ve a lot of cool music that could Set The Mood.
Dallas: *scandalized* Kelsey, I’m not gonna kiss him while The Mountain Goats is playing in the background.

QUIET FLUFF STARTERS

“Look! I finished my first flower crown!”
“What kind of bird do you think that one is?”
“Can you wake me up in five minutes?”
“Mm, feeding birds is so relaxing.”
“The brownies are finally cool!”
“You don’t know how to sew? Here, let me show you…”
“Can you help me pick more flowers?”
“I got you something!”
“Hey, you’re shivering. Do you wanna borrow my coat?”
“Want some of my cotton candy?”

“Oh! Well in that case, I can't really blame her.”

That post was long enough, so here’s a part two, of sorts. I just spilled a bunch of words everywhere about Viz’s dub of Episode 96, and if you haven’t read that post yet, I’d encourage doing that first.

As I mention there, I specifically watched that episode to screen it for Holligay. I thought an even better case could be made by the actual dialogue in the episode itself. So I transcribed all the pertinent scenes for her, and since I already have that done, I figured why not share it here as well?

Under the cut, then, is all the Viz dub dialogue for the shitty scenes in Episode 96 (and a little bit of commentary in places about the changes).

Keep reading

I just saw this post that was like, “okay but what about popular cheerleader with a secret crush on the weird girl that everyone bullies.” 

And 1) A+ concept and 2)when I was an actual tween, way back in 90s before I even knew what shipping was, I shipped Sue Snell/Carrie White.

I stand by that ship to this day.

3

Lip was headed for the Alibi, on the lookout for a drunken Frank who’d caused some chaos just an hour before. He was less than surprised as the smell of a fresh strawberry cigarette crept up on his senses, followed by two cold and red-polished set of fingers on each of his shoulders. “Good morning, idiot,” you laughed. “Jesus Christ, you got nothing better to do than follow me?” he sighed. “Uh oh, what did Frank do now?” you questioned. He scoffed, putting a fresh cigarette in his mouth. “Well, for starters he decided to come home instead of wander the streets like a bum,” Lip replied. 

You rolled your eyes as you walked beside him. “I brought my knuckle ring with me. Wanna borrow it?” you asked. He laughed slightly at the offer. “Save it for another time,” he answered. You smiled as he used your cigarette to light his. You two were friends—sort of. You had your roller coaster traits that went together perfectly, households equally at their full occupancy rate. It was hard not to find something in each of you that wasn’t likeable in the other’s eyes, however. You played pool at the Alibi every Sunday, too, like an unspoken commitment birthed from the friendship. You followed Lip into the Alibi and then all over the rest of town, listening to him bitch about how you wouldn’t quite bugging him—you loved it. 

You stopped on the edge of town near the deserted snowy trails by the lakes at the end of Chicago. “Well fuck, where is he?” Lip growled. “…Wanna do something better?” you asked. He looked at you as you tilted your head. “Wanna crash a rich peoples’ party? We can even make-out in front of everybody to make the old people uncomfortable,” you joked. He looked around in hesitation before he replied. “Let’s make sure they can see the tongue,” he responded. You were taken aback. You were kidding…sort of. You smiled slightly, waiting for him to say he was fucking with you, but he never did. Instead, he took you by the hand and dragged you back into town. Oh, and you did more than just make-out at the party.

anonymous asked:

i wanna get a binder but im living with my parents and idk how they feel about this stuff, and i dont really have money since i'm broke and dont wanna risk borrowing some from them and the have them ask what i bought, any suggestions?

Kii says:

So, if you don’t have money and you don’t have a way of getting money, your options are really limited, but you can try applying to a free binder program.

Silly writing

I’m currently unable to properly write, because my lense ran away from me and began a new career as a scubadiver and it’s frustrating. Sooo have a little silly thing typed on mobile (omg I hate that), born from a silly discussion. Because I WANNA WRITE DAMMIT.

Fang is borrowed with permission from @marloviandevil (whom is the very person the silly discussion was done with. Thaaaanks)

*

Plo stared at his pack, torn between fond exasperation and deep amusement. He was not familiar with Hezrr’s wildlife but, given the planet large and vast forests, the presence of wolves here wasn’t surprising. He had not thought his men would try to catch one, though. He could not see Wolffe allowing the frivolous chase that had probably been either, not when they were still on duty anyway.
Speaking of his Commander…

« Where is Wolffe ? » he asked Sinker.

The clone sighed and pointed at the wolfcub sitting at his feet. It was somewhat big, for a pup, with a thick coat of black fur and a glare and missing… an eye.
Oh dear Force.

*

The clones had apparently ran across an old ruin site during their recon, and when Wolffe had stepped inside to see if the wrecked building would make for a potential camp… there had been a terrible high pitched sound that made all of them wince, even those wearing their helmets, and when they had opened their eyes, there had been a wolfcub growling inside Wolffe’s armor.

Even without the missing eye, and the fact that the Pup had his Commander’s Force-presence as proof, Plo was certain this was Wolffe. Especially with the glare and the bitten fingers Boost got when he tried to carry the young wolf in his helmet.
Or the expert way he was dodging all of Fang’s attempts to catch him.

« I do believe he is in perfect health, running like that. » the Kel-Dor smiled after yet another failed catch.
« He is a WOLF. » the medic snarled, glaring at the pup running ahead. « This is not ‘perfect health’. »

To be perfectly honest, Plo WAS worried but, as they were going back to the ruin site, they wasn’t much more to be done for now. He could feel no pain coming from Wolffe, just grumbling resignation and some very amusing gleeful mischief.

« No, it’s not, but he is quite energetic. You would probably be better off waiting for him to exhaust himself, running everywhere like that. » Plo pointed out.

Fang gave up his chase with a pointed sigh.

« I am SO winning the next “what shit did your vode get into” medic meeting. » he muttered under his breath.

*

If the Wolfpack had been worried about their leader, it became quite apparent that he was still mostly his usual self. Running ahead of them, taking point, doubling back to check on them, barking furiously against the vod that was taking the situation a bit too lightly and almost ended up in the pond of quicksand the wolf had been trying to make him avoid.

The only novelty was the biting, and that wasn’t very surprising. Painful, though, because the only reachable part for the wolfcub was the ankle and Wolffe had managed to find the precise spot where leg armor met the boot, providing just the slightest of spaces for the wolf to sink his teeth into tender flesh.

*

Eventually, Plo’s prediction became true. As they neared the ruins, Wolffe first began to slow down until he nearly collapsed on the spot. He would have, if Comet had not been waiting for it for half an hour, now, and hadn’t reached in time to catch the pup, cradling him carefully against his chest.

Plo ended up studying the ruins remotely, not willing to risk another transformation, his mind focusing on the strange energies around the old place while his clawed hands stroked a dozing pup on his lap.

Wolffe opened an eye, tried to figure out when and how he went from standing up to lying on his side, but scratches on his head with wonderfully talented fingers made him nozzle back into that comfortable warmth. He would investigate later.

*

Of fucking course, Fang got his fingers bitten when he tried to remove the wolfcub from their General’s lap.

After disappointing games, nothing quite cheered up Kent Parson like a marathon of cat videos on his phone and Swoops sitting next to him. 

The Aces all knew that their captain was moody and almost unbearable around after difficult losses, especially during away games. No one wanted to sit with him on the bus or the plane, but they all felt like they were obligated to at least try (but also because they cared too). So, they had been on a rotation schedule to make sure that their captain never had to sit alone.

At first, when Swoops joined the team, it had been “make the rookie do it because he didn’t know better”. The guys on the team figured they would get a month’s reprieve before Swoops would bitch, and they would be back to taking turns again. They were all surprised, however, when Swoops never said a word about Kent’s unpredictable moods. In fact, he almost seemed happy to sit with their captain, even when Kent was snarling and wanted to bite everyone’s heads off.

So, it became a thing that everyone accepted but never really acknowledged: Parse and Swoops sat together.

And if the rest of the guys noticed that Kent’s shoulders were looser and his fists weren’t clenched so tight when he was with Swoops, they kept it to themselves. Just like they pretended they missed the saccharine glances that Swoops gave their captain when he thought Kent wasn’t looking.

(It wasn’t matchmaking, they told themselves. It was a mission.)

It started with a few inconvenient, but wholly unoriginal pranks.

“Ha-ha, guys. Very funny. You hid all my clothes while I was in the shower. Now, give them back.”

“I think they’ve actually all left.”

“Swoops, you’re the only one here?”

“Yeah, I got held up. Hey, wanna borrow my clothes? I have extra.”

Then, they graduated onto more sophisticated plans (complete with secret diagrams drawn out on whiteboards).

“Hey, where are the rest of them?”

“Vinny said his baby got sick, Marsh and Dougie got last minute Cirque du Soleil tickets, and I actually really don’t know what happened to the rest of the guys.”

“So, it’s just you and me then?”

“I guess so.”

“Well, since we’re already here, we might as well eat.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Wait, I thought the reservation was for eight. Why are they taking us at a small table, and oh—it’s got candles on it too?”

It was for the good of the team, the guys told themselves, and it was good for the team.

Kent’s smiles grew soft, and he laughed more now (and it wasn’t the hollow, self-deprecating laugh from before either). Some days, he showed up at practice with an expression that could be described by Smithy as “head over dick in love” and an infectious energy that brought them all closer.

Life was pretty good.

Kent still took some losses hard on the road, but by the time he settled into his seat with Swoops beside him, it always turned into a tired contentedness.

And if any of the guys on the team caught their captain asleep and smiling with his head nestled on Swoops’ shoulder, none of them said anything.

(Actually, Kent was drooling one time, and it was too cute to pass up, so Dougie took pictures, which eventually ended up on the slideshow at the wedding.)

i cant wait 2:

shave my head
see my gf 2morrow
do my make up tomorrow bc i got new things 2 play wit :)
read the 3rd harry potter book…(gotta find a copy somewhere)
get a job
shave my head x2
see my gf!!!!!! tomorrow!!!!!
feel the sun on my skin
summer.
visit @icanbeafreak-everydayoftheweek in victoria !!! ahh!!
celebrate joy’s existence for 21 years

From Under the Ground (1/1)

Summary: The year is 2152, eighty-five years after the world’s devestating nuclear war.  Killian Jones is a scribe for a not-quite-so-very-legal excavation (read: scavenging) team.  In which he discovers a stash of audio logs that he believes are from the 2080’s, and finds himself rather enamored with the voice of a woman called Swan.

Rated: T

Warnings: Language

Words: ~13k

Notes: Inspired by this post.  Title borrowed from this song.  Much love to @seastarved​ for beta-ing this mess!

Also on ff and ao3


Red Hook, 4 May 2152, 8:00AM

At precisely eight in the morning, as he notes in his log, Killian Jones stands just outside his home on the edge of camp. It’s not much, a cottage of sorts – or a shack, really, compared to the homes he’s seen in books from years past – but it’s home and work nonetheless. He’d even managed to put a coat of paint on the slats, the sort of pale blue that reminds him of humid days on the coast, horizon pale behind the fog. He’d found the dented can of paint on one of his solo runs to a decrepit supermarket just across the river in Kingston. The label on the side, peeling and faded with time and war and the sort of forgetfulness brought on by both, had assured him only one coat would put his home in a brilliant shade of forget-me-not, whatever the bloody hell that meant. The can had given his Geiger counter a bit of trouble, much to David Nolan’s displeasure, suggesting the paint inside was a just a bit irradiated –

Jones, you’re going to irradiate yourself straight to hell.”

The expression, I believe, is no one asked you, Dave.”

Keep reading

Sees book. Thinks, I need to have it. Thinks again, You can borrow it later. Thinks, No, I want it now. And. So, I take it home, puts in in the pile, watching it from my bed, feeling exasperated - because too many books and too little time and… out- stressed much… This is the only reason I can think of, that makes me hate my work - I wanna borrow home all the books always….